


Belle of the Ball

by StellarSpider (Hero_in_a_hoodie)



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Ball gown, Ballroom Dancing, Buffet, DON'T SHIP REAL PEOPLE, Drinking Responsibly, F/M, Feeling left out, Injury Mentioned, M/M, Magic Jewelry, Missing Limbs, Noble Titles, Non-Graphic Depiction of Injury, PVP, Party, Secret Relationship, Swearing, Sword Fighting Practice, Wedding Rings, a man in a kilt, additional tags to be added later, alcohol and cocktails, confession of love, courtly manners, falsewell diner, girls supporting girls, glowing jewelry, hermitcraft: season seven, magical healing, minecraft personas ONLY, shopping district, trading for diamonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24033517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hero_in_a_hoodie/pseuds/StellarSpider
Summary: Grian's mansion is complete, and he's hosting a fancy party for all the hermits. As happy as False is to hang out with her friends, she feels like someone is missing.
Relationships: Beef & Matilda, Cleo/Joe, Grian/Scar, Tango/Impulse/Zedaph, Xisuma/Keralis, false/wels, stress/iskall
Comments: 59
Kudos: 202





	1. At the Party

**Author's Note:**

> **Note: It should go without saying, but this is based on personas only. Don't ship real people, they generally do not like it.**
> 
> _Author's Comments: I'm sure I haven't written the voices accurately, but hopefully their personalities shine through. I'll focus more on characters I watch the most, but most hermits will have a role eventually._

The party at Grian’s mansions looks like it’s going full swing by the time False arrives. Balloons and fresh flowers line the long outer staircase, and multicolored beacon beams flank both sides of the massive front doors. Every step brings her closer to the source of music and laughter, and she almost begins to worry about banging on the door to be let in. But Mumbo is there, waiting at the entrance, with his warm smile and impeccable suit.

“I heard you offered to be the butler tonight,” she says by way of greeting. “I guess I expected a different outfit for the occasion.”

“What? This suit’s fine. Grian didn’t tell me I needed to change.”

“You look good, Mumbo Jumbo. It suits you.”

He laughs along with her, almost enough to reassure her before he offers to take her cloak. But then, as she slides it off her shoulders to reveal the ball gown beneath, his eyes go wide. “Woah.”

“It’s not too much, is it? I didn’t think…”

“You look beautiful, False.”

His sincere compliment lacks any hint of desire. Still, False squirms internally. This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have come, certainly not in this dress, not with all the guys who would be here, looking at her, all except the one who—

Her own voice surprises her when she says, “I’m just glad I picked sensible shoes for that climb. Those stairs are a killer.”

“You chose better than Stress. Iskall had to carry her at least halfway.”

She shakes her head, grinning again. False had warned her, earlier that week…


	2. Earlier that Week

Earlier that week, the three girls had gotten together to go through each other’s wardrobes, looking at dresses for the party. Well, Cleo already had her outfit prepared, claiming she and Joe had planned out their ensemble almost as soon as the party had been announced. So that left Stress and False to choose their dresses, and since Stress owned the larger selection, they had gathered at her jungle skull base.

Up in the pink cranium room, Cleo lay sprawled out on Stress’ magenta bed while False rummaged through chests filled with silk and satin and velvet and lace. Honestly, her friend gathered more and more clothing every season, but only ever wore her pink sweater, white t-shirt, and jean shorts. It seemed a waste until an event like this.

Even with all her choices available, Stress was stressed out about the selection. She bemoaned her luck from the en-suite changing room. “These shoes don’t match this waistband, and this shawl doesn’t go with that neckline. If Iskall wears his red suit I need to—”

“—I already told you, girl,” Cleo declared, not even sitting up on the bed. “The short pink dress, those heels, and a bow in your hair. Once he sees how cute you are, Iskall will change into whatever suit you suggest.”

“But I wanna be sure we look pretty together,” Stress insisted, poking her head into the bedroom. “You’re so lucky, Cleo. You and Joe already know what you’ll be wearing.”

“That doesn’t guarantee we’ll look good. Joe had another one of his wacky ideas for the outfits, I’m just going along with it.” 

Well, that was intriguing. False would have to keep an eye out.

“What do you think?” 

It took a minute for False to realize Stress was now asking for her opinion. She sighed and looked up from the chests. “You should wear flats. You know you’ll want to dance all night, and the heels won’t help.”

“But I’m too short! Iskall’s too tall! Even when I am wearing heels, it’s hard to reach his—”

False’s wordless glare silenced her.

“Rule number two, girl,” Cleo reminded Stress, “don’t complain about your relationship to someone who isn’t in one.”

Stress pouted just for a second. “You’re forgetting the first rule. Girls support each other, no matter what.”

“All right then,” False said, “Why don’t you support me in finding a dress? There’s too many to pick from in here.”

Stress thought for a minute, then her face lit up. “I know the perfect one. Oh, Falsie, you’ll look gorgeous.”

They both reached into the clothes’ chest. This time False simply allowed her hands to wander through the diverse fabrics, wondering how much it mattered whether or not she’d look ‘pretty’ at the party. She wouldn’t admit she wanted anyone looking at her.

That is, until her fingers brushed up against the tulle.

The touch thrilled her. She quickly reached to grasp it with more than two fingers, but the fabric was already being pulled out of her hands. “Found it!” she heard Stress say, and Cleo gasped.

Stress held up a floor-length gown of sky-blue tulle with puffy sleeves and a low, low neckline. Before False even had the chance to stand, her friend pressed the dress up against her. “It’s too long and tight on me, but I’m sure it’ll fit you.”

“It matches your eyes, False,” Cleo added.

False gripped the ball gown and swayed thoughtfully, lost in her emotions for just a moment. She knew Stress was right about the fit, even before trying it on. This was the perfect dress, for the perfect night together with all her friends, everyone except—

“We’ll do up your hair, put a little eyeshadow and blush on you, and you’ll look like a fairy-tale princess, all ready for your knight in shining armor!”

Stress giggled and Cleo groaned and False just smiled along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stress' dress: https://www.torrid.com/product/special-occasion-hot-pink-satin-skater-dress/12716521.html  
> False's dress: https://lizprom.com/products/light-sky-blue-off-the-shoulder-ruffled-appliques-long-sleeves-ball-gown


	3. At the Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a very simple plot when I started this. Now I have a lot more ideas. What have I gotten myself into? Only time will tell.

Mumbo strides ahead, directing False to where the hermits have gathered. She keeps her eyes up, trusting her feet to walk steady on the thick carpeting. Her eyes flicker from painting to tapestry to stained-glass window as they pass by, trying to focus on the grand decor rather than her own racing thoughts.

It isn’t working.

She could leave right now. She could just run back through the hallway, out the door and down the stairs. It’d be a pretty sight with all this blue tulle flowing in the air behind her, and no one would see her go, except Mumbo.

Who’s now ushering her into the ball room with a smile and a nod, and then his voice announces, “Lady FalseSymmetry.”

Her breath catches in her throat, though not for the reason she expects. The room is exquisite, all quartz and dark oak, precious gems and bright lights. The tiled dance floor gleams under a crystal chandelier, and one of the hermits is actually playing the grand piano on the other side of the room.

Awestruck, False manages to ignore all the hermits’ stares on her arrival. But as the host approaches, she composes herself and curtsies. Grian meets her with an excessively deep bow. “Lady False, the belle of the ball herself! I’m honored you could join us.”

“The pleasure’s mine, Lord Grian,” she replies properly, but can’t hold back her chuckle for long. They had agreed to use fancy titles and courtly manners for the night, all in the spirit of fun, but she feels like it's bordered on the ridiculous.

She leans in closer to say, “Honestly, I can’t wait to take a look around your manor now. This place is incredible.”

“Yeah, it was an incredible grind. It’s hard to believe I’m not the last hermit to complete their base this season.”

“That’s because you stole me away from my builds,” Scar peeks over Grian’s shoulder, cutting into their conversation. His arms wrap around the waist in front of him, and Grian reaches up to ruffle his hair. Both of their faces glow, and False knows its not the effect of any magical crystal.

“Get a room, you two,” she says, and they reluctantly disentangle. 

Scar’s wizard robes are more elaborate than usual, and he’s even wearing trousers for the party. But what catches False’s eye is the string of fairy lights circling his head like a tiara. The lights twinkle along with the melody from the piano.

Thoughtlessly, she reaches up to touch them. “That’s not redstone, is it?”

“It’s magic!” Scar insists. She chuckles at the joke until he holds up another string of lights, no obvious power source in sight.

A necklace for her. She bends her head so he can slip it over her hairdo. The tiny blue bulbs are as cold as ice on her bare neck. “Beautiful. Now you’re certainly the belle of the ball, Lady False.”

“Thank you, Sir Scar.”


	4. In the Shopping District

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot begins. But whatever you think is going to happen, you're probably wrong.

“Thanks, Scar!”

False looked up from the pathway to her terracotta shop when Cub flew by overhead. With the party starting in a couple hours, she thought she’d have plenty of time to run some errands around the shopping district. It looked like Cub had the same idea. 

“Hey, False,” he said as he gently landed on the lily pad next to her. “Are you restocking terracotta right now?”

“Yeah, do you need any particular color?”

“Yellow, white, blue and light blue, if you please.” 

She motioned to the barrels inside, but then her eyes went wide as Cub started setting down empty shulker boxes. By the time he put eight on the ground, she had hurried back to the door of her storage room.

“Let me make sure I have enough for you.”

“I’d appreciate that. I need about three boxes of blue…”

After dying some extra stacks of plain terracotta and helping Cub fill his boxes, False stopped him before he could get out his diamonds. “I’ll give you a bulk discount today. Thirty-two diamonds for each of those boxes.”

“That’s four stacks in all. Not bad, not bad.”

He handed over the diamonds, and False stepped into her storage room to consolidate them into blocks. “So, what are you planning to build?” she asked over her shoulder.

Cub didn’t answer.

She walked back out. He was still standing in her shop, arranging the shulker boxes in his inventory. When False tried to catch his eye, he turned away slightly. Then he shook his head. 

“I can’t say yet. It’s a surprise.”

“Really?” Cub wasn’t one to keep his plans secret for long, even if it was something like a prank. And False didn’t think he would prank her with blocks he’d bought from her. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to wait.”

“You’ll appreciate it. I promise.” He met her eye and smiled. “Hey, will you be at the party tonight?”

“Well, yeah, since everyone else is going.” It was False’s turn to look away awkwardly. He had a crafty look in his eye, which she understood after so many seasons together. Cub was definitely planning something.

“Good, good. Will you dance with me?”

False almost laughed until she looked up at his sincere face. The question hung in the air between them for a moment.

“Yes,” she said softly, “Of course. But…”

“—Great. Thanks for the supplies, Falsie. I’ll see you tonight.”

Cub leapt up in a puff of rocket smoke and zoomed off. She watched until he was a speck fading away into the distance. Then the unvoiced question finally fell from her lips. “…why me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad. Grian said he's going to fill the mansion up with farms rather than do the interior all fancy. I'm glad he's learning redstone, but I like his decorating skills too. Maybe he'll reconsider, but I wouldn't bug him about it. I guess that means my story is taking place in an alternate universe. I don't mind too much.


	5. At the Party

Leaving Grian and Scar by the doorway, False heads over to the buffet table. Even from across the room she can see a towering pile of cream puffs, but the whole spread beckons her closer: a full variety of sweet and savory foods. She quickly piles meatballs, mac and cheese, and French fries on a paper plate, covering it all with a large slice of pizza. She also grabs a cream puff, just because.

Then False looks around for a drink, but there are no cans or bottles in sight. “Come on, Grian, where’d you hide the pop?” she says to herself.

Beef steps up beside her with his own plate. “Llama Dad can help. What are you looking for, Lady False?”

“Hi, Sir Loin. Soda or…” she turns to say to him and falls speechless.

Beside Beef, and attached to him by a lead, is a cream-colored llama. A white carpet with red and green stripes is draped over her back, and Beef is wearing a matching poncho. The nametag hanging from her neck identifies her as ‘Matilda’.

False starts laughing so hard that she needs to put down her plate. “You brought a llama to the party?”

“Well, she wanted to come, and how could I say ‘no’ to my sweet Matilda.” He makes a kissy face at the llama, who only looks at him indifferently. 

“Oh, no.” False rolls her eyes. “You’d better keep Sir Keralis away from ‘your sweet llama’, or she’ll go home with the other man afterwards.”

“Don’t say that. Lady Matilda would never leave me.” Beef pouts. “Anyway, K is stuck working the bar all night.” He points over to a corner where Grian had built in a counter-top and bar stools. Keralis is indeed standing behind it, but at least he has Xisuma for company. 

“So that’s where the drinks are,” False remarks. “Good to know. Well, have a good time with your…date.”

She walks away from the man and his llama, still shaking her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this short chapter took all week. I'm not sorry at all for any of the jokes/puns.  
> Edit: I added another pun on 6/1.  
> Also, go watch VintageBeef if you haven't already. That man is a national treasure.


	6. In the Falsewell Diner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like writing these flashback chapters, but I'll try to make the next party chapter just as long as this one.

“Here you go, fellows,” False said, setting the tray of milkshakes down for the three men at the booth. BdoubleO grabbed his strawberry shake and quickly stuck in the straw, while Xisuma passed Keralis the mint one first before reaching for his own chocolate shake. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else before the grill closes?”

“No thanks, False,” Xisuma told her. “Idea hasn’t made many diamonds yet, and we can’t spend them all in one place. I told the guys it would be my treat tonight.”

“Spank you, Shashwammy,” Keralis said, giving Xisuma’s other hand a squeeze.

“And thank you, False,” BdoubleO added, taking a breath as he had already finished half his milkshake. “These are even better than they were on opening night.”

“I’d hope so,” False said. She looked around the diner. Falsewell was the place to be on Friday evenings. More than half the hermits were in her restaurant, enjoying a burger and fries, or at least a milkshake. Of course, making all that food was the least of her worries.

For instance, the hippies Ren, Grian and Impulse had to be seated as far away as possible from the Area 77 generals Doc and Scar. Even then, the two factions eyed each other warily throughout dinner. Joe and Cleo always claimed the largest booth for their weekly double date with Iskall and Stress. And without fail, TFC would walk in right before closing for a cup of black coffee. False was keeping an eye out for him.

“I was thinking,” BdoubleO caught her attention again. “If you started making peanut butter milkshakes, I’d come in every night.”

False smiled but shook her head. “I wasn’t planning on it. Honestly, I think I’ll let someone else open a restaurant next season. This is a lot of work, even with the help I have.”

As if on cue, the food pick-up bell dinged. False looked up, but Mumbo had already grabbed the final burgers of the night to carry them over to Cub and Jevin. As he passed by her, he said, “I already cleaned the blenders, so I’ll head out after this.”

“Sure thing. Have a good night.”

“Same to you.” He walked on, but then said over his shoulder. “And enjoy your date, you three.”

False saw Keralis and Xisuma look at each other fondly. But to her surprise, BdoubleO objected, “Hey, this is not a date. I’m not dating either of them.”

“Don’t get so worked up, Bubbles.” Keralis tried to calm him down.

“And don’t blame the Spoon,” Xisuma added. “I’m astonished he figured that out.”

False glanced around the diner. No one else required her immediate attention, so she slid into the booth beside BdoubleO. “Wait, so the two of you are officially dating now?”

Xisuma looked to Keralis, who enthusiastically nodded. False grinned.

“Yeah, finally,” BdoubleO groaned. “And it only took me starting a business to get them together. So here I am, stuck as their third wheel.”

“That’s better than being the fifth wheel for those four,” False said, pointing back at Stress and Cleo’s booth, where the girls were laughing at one of Joe’s puns. Iskall just looked befuddled.

“Hey, there’s an idea,” Xisuma said. The other three quieted down, waiting for him to voice it. “And I’m saying it’s just an idea, but what if…”

Suddenly, Keralis had the same thought. “—Bubbles and Falsie?”

She looked over at Bdubs. He was looking at her.

In the same moment, they both said, “No.”

Xisuma and Keralis cracked up.

“Stop trying to set me up!” BdoubleO exclaimed. “You know I don’t want to date anyone exclusively.”

False laid a hand on his arm, and he quieted down. “Thanks, fellows,” she said. “But I’m not as lonely as you think.” 

Xisuma smiled, and Keralis’ wide eyes grew even wider. “Really? Who’s the lucky—”

The bell above the entrance dinged as TFC stepped into the diner. “I’d better help him,” False said, standing up. “Have a good night, you three.”

TFC walked so slowly that it took a second for False to realize he was limping. She had been heading for the coffee pot, but instead hurried over to lend him a steady arm. Together, they reached his usual spot at the counter. “Thanks, darling,” TFC said as he took a seat.

“Sure. How long has your leg been hurting?”

“I don’t know…maybe a week. It’s nothing, just aches and pains. You’ll feel the same way when you’re my age.”

False frowned as she hurried behind the counter to get a clean mug. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” she insisted. “You should ask Doc to examine that leg.”

She poured a cup of coffee for the old hermit. He sat silently, deep in thought for a minute, before he picked it up and took a sip. “Well, if you’re concerned, maybe I should. I’ll message him tomorrow.”

“Good. Do you need help getting back to your bunker?”

Xisuma came up behind TFC and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I can help him get home. Sorry, happened to overhear,” he said as he passed the diamonds for his milkshakes over to False.

“Help’s always appreciated, X.” Xisuma took a seat with TFC while he finished his coffee. 

False hurried around collecting the bills from the remaining hermits. She was dividing the diamonds into three piles when she realized BdoubleO and Keralis had started bussing the tables for her. “Do I need to pay you guys now?”

Keralis grinned. “Yes, please.”

BdoubleO punched his shoulder. “Be nice. She already has to divide it between her, Mumbo and—”

“If you do, don’t give them any from my share,” a voice called from the kitchen.

“That’s fine,” False yelled right back. “It’s out of my own pocket.”

The tables were cleared, and BdoubleO had wiped down half of them. False gladly handed over two diamonds.

Slowly, the hermits dispersed into the night, each one leaving with a smile or a wave towards False. She finished wiping down the tables and the counter, and then quickly mopped the floor. By the time she reached the light switches for the dining area, even Xisuma and TFC were headed out the door.

“Good night, fellows.”

“You too, darling.”

The door swung shut with another ding of the bell, and False flicked off the switch. The dining room went dark except for the moonbeams from outside and the kitchen’s lights through the pick-up window.

False took her time walking back to the kitchen. She had to admit, this was her favorite part of the night. After three hours of socializing, taking orders and carrying dishes and catching up on all the gossip with her large group of friends, she could use a break. These few minutes after closing the diner always felt like the first deep breath she’d take after coming up for air while swimming.

The bright kitchen was empty, with the back door to the dumpster wide open. The dishwasher was already loaded and running, so she stood at the sink to finish washing TFC’s coffee cup by hand.

And then, there by her side, another pair of hands took the mug to dry it off. False smiled as she leaned against the man at her side, resting her head on his broad shoulder.

“You look tired,” Wels said. “Happy, but tired.”

“I am,” False said.

“It’s early still. We could head over to the hippie camp and sit by the fire with our friends.”

False shook her head. “I’d rather just spend the evening with you. Is that okay?”

Wels set the mug down and took her hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't seen Welsknight's latest video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsiZmKczCfg


	7. At the Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait until you're an adult to drink responsibly, kids. That means don't drink on an empty stomach, and don't expect it to fix your emotions.

False heads toward the bar with her plate full of food. Keralis is staring at the llama behind her, but he soon turns his attention to his approaching patron. “Hiya, Lady False. What’ll you be drinking tonight?”

She takes the seat beside Xisuma. “Please tell me we have some alcohol here.”

“Grian has all the best booze that diamonds can buy,” Xisuma says, holding up his gin and tonic as example. “And tonight, the lord of the manor is giving it away.”

“A Cuba Libre, please,” False tells Keralis. He goes to make the drink, and she turns to Xisuma. “I never see you drink, Sir X,” she says teasingly. “Are you sure you’re not overdoing it?”

He takes another sip of his cocktail through the straw in his helmet. “I’m only having one. Jeez, aren’t I allowed to relax occasionally?” 

As he sets his glass down on a napkin to protect the polished wood, False notices his lapel pin. The six-pointed star sparkles with the same tiny lights as False’s necklace, although his are gold rather than blue. Xisuma follows her gaze to the piece of magical jewelry. “It’s not as fancy as yours, but…” He presses the button at the center, and the lights spin for couple seconds.

“Oh, that’s special. I wonder why Scar gave you that one…”

Keralis returns, handing False her drink. She takes a sip, and then another, larger swallow. The crispness of the ice and the carbonation vie for dominance on her tongue. The tart citrus cuts the overbearing sweetness of the cola. And the smoothness of the rum lingers in her mouth even after she puts the glass down.

“That’s excellent, Sir Keralis. You must have a really good bottle back there.”

Xisuma smiles at his boyfriend, who is blushing at False’s praise. “See, I knew you’d make a fine bartender.” 

“Shashwammy, I learned it all from you. Lookie, lookie at the ratio, he told me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re learning something new, and I’m relieved to see our admin relaxing for once.”

“Cheers to that!” Xisuma adds, and they clink glasses. 

False digs into her dinner plate for a few minutes, listening to Xisuma explain different drink recipes to Keralis. Hearing his descriptions of a Mojito, a Piña Colada, and then a Daiquiri leaves False thirsty for another cocktail. She restrains herself, finishing the last of her Cuba Libre. 

But just as she is about to ask for another drink, Cleo runs up beside her. “Can we get a water bottle and an orange juice? Thanks, K.”

Stress jumps in on her other side, nearly knocking Xisuma off his barstool, and wraps an arm around False’s shoulder. “Are you done eating yet? Come dance with us!”

“I’m almost finished,” False says, turning back to Cleo to get a better look at her dapper outfit, an emerald green pantsuit with a plaid waistcoat. She can’t help but stare, wondering at this choice of attire, until Joe walks up to join them at the bar.

The man is wearing a kilt. With the two of them in matching green plaid, it looks like they’re on their way to a Riverdance show. Joe has even donned a traditional sporran and ghillie brogues for the party.

“Howdy, Lady False. You’re looking nice tonight.” Joe greets her with a bow, his southern manners shining through. “Sir Keralis, do you have any grapefruit soda? Could I have some orange juice with that?”

Keralis sets a water bottle and two orange juices on the counter, then heads back to check for the soda. Cleo grabs the water for herself and hands an orange juice over to Stress. “But I wanted another mimosa,” Stress pouts.

“You can have one after you stop stepping on Iskall’s toes. The poor guy has two left feet as it is.”

“False will dance with me!” Stress proclaims, grabbing False’s hand. She’s also wearing a piece of the light-up jewelry, a sparkly red bracelet to go along with her pink dress. 

That’s four pieces of jewelry so far, the thought nudges through the pleasant buzz from False’s drink. At least four hermits are wearing unknown magical items on a night when the expectations on the server are just a bit stranger than usual. And what if there are matching pieces? What if someone in this room tonight is also wearing blue lights, waiting for her?

It’s all too much. She pulls her hand away from Stress, who steps back to drink her juice. False reaches for her glass but finds it empty. “Keralis?”

“Here’s your soda, Sir Joe. Want another Cuba Libre, Lady False?”

“Probably just the Coke,” Xisuma speaks up before False can. “Don’t overdo it.”

She nods absentmindedly at his suggestion, watching Joe pop the tab on his can of soda. He divides it between two glasses, which Cleo tops with a generous portion of orange juice. Their hands, moving in sync, both wear matching gold rings. 

At the sight of their Bond rings, False’s own hand begins to tremble. She picks up her empty glass to hide it.

“Lady False, do you still want this Coke?” Keralis asks. The concern in his voice is more than she expects from his role as bartender. She doesn’t need to look up to know that his wide eyes are fixed on her. Xisuma’s hand rests on her shoulder.

“I’m okay,” False says, putting the glass down once more. “Really, I’m fine.” She shrugs and stands up from her bar stool, bumping into Stress again. False grabs her hand this time.

“You wanted to dance? Let’s go dance,” she says. Stress squeals in delight and drags her out onto the dance floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xisuma's lapel pin: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/90635011239593328/  
> Joe's outfit: https://kiltandmore.com/argyle-jacket-kilt-outfit.html


	8. At the Team S.T.A.R. Base

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be fluffy. Angst took over instead. And I’m not even mad.

“Are you here to dance or to fight?” Wels taunted, diamond sword sparkling in the sunset light.

“I’ll show you how I fight!” False replied with a laugh, holding her own sword high and ready. Her feet moved lightly over the terrace of the S.T.A.R. fort.

Their weapons clashed again. False pushed forward, but Wels dug in his heels and held firm. Straining for a better angle, she slid her blade across his blocking sword, but he knocked it away at the last second.

False stepped back, breathing heavily. Wels lowered his sword and waited.

“You’re agile, not heavy. Use that to your advantage,” he advised her. “Strike fast and get out of the way. Or dance around them. Get them swinging wildly, unsteady and exhausted, and then jump in for the kill.”

“Got it,” she said, lunging forward. He lifted his sword just in time to shield his face. 

False didn’t hesitate, jumping to the right to aim another high stroke. Wels moved to block that one too, but her blade turned at the last second, passing under his defense. The flat of her sword connected with the side of his knee. Wels fell in mock defeat.

False tapped the kneeling man’s cheek with her blade. Wels looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with something akin to admiration. At the sight of it, her heart began pounding just a little stronger than before, and she had to turn her eyes away.

“I know my own advantages,” False stated. She offered her hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Yeah, I get that. GG.”

Once standing, though, Wels wouldn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he let his sword drop to the floor and wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling False close.

“Are we dancing now?” False said, looking over his shoulder at the front door to the base, double-checking that it was shut. After a second, she sighed and wrapped her own arm around Wels’ neck, leaning into the embrace.

“Well, since I can’t compete with the most capable fighter on the server…”

“Stop it,” she chuckled, “I’m average at best.”

His arms wrapped tighter around her. She felt the press of Wels’ lips on her forehead, and the whispered words, “I think you’re incredible.” 

False blushed.

Then she looked up and realized he was blushing too.

“Sorry if that was too much,” Wels said, letting her go. “I know you’re not comfortable yet with a big display of affection.”

“No, it’s okay,” False said, turning her eyes to the door. It was still closed. “We’re safe.”

Wels sighed when he saw where False was looking. “You know, if Doc or X or Ren came out right now and saw us, they would congratulate us. We could trust them to keep it a secret, too.”

“I know,” she said, dropping her head to look at the smooth stone floor. Wels’ hand came up to brush against her cheek, but then fell away just as quickly. Tears burned, unfallen from her eyes, over the worry False could not quite explain, not even to herself. “Someday. Not today, but someday I’ll be stronger.”

“And I’ll wait, as long as it takes, until you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” She looked up into his diamond blue eyes, shining in the light of the sunset. At least with those eyes on her, she never felt any discomfort, just his loyal affection. So False smiled and murmured, “I love your eyes.”

Her confession made his eyes grow wider. After a second, False realized what she had said, especially that word she had used, and threw her hands over her mouth. “I mean, your eyes are my favorite color," she said, muffled. "Blue, my favorite color. Your eyes are blue.”

“I…” Wels began, but then he sighed and shook his head. At least he was still smiling. “Your eyes are my favorite, too.”

A noise from inside the base suddenly caught their attention. Someone, probably Ren, was ringing the bell to gather the S.T.A.R. team for supper. 

“Well, let’s not keep our friends waiting too long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever worry, that even when everyone’s looking at you, watching to see if you’ll fail or succeed, no one actually sees the real you, struggling all the while? Because I feel that way sometimes, and writing is cheaper than therapy.
> 
> I really appreciate comments, and I’ll respond more to them now that I’m on summer break.


	9. At the Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't need to take two weeks, but I don't know how to write about dancing. I'm rather proud of the rest of it. And I know the next chapters will be easier.

Out on the dance floor, Stress takes the lead. She sashays to the piano player’s current melody; a pop song False recognizes but can’t identify. So she hums along with the tune, swaying slighting. The swish of her tulle skirt on the smooth tiles eases her back to a relaxed frame of mind.

The music speeds up, and Stress grins. She slides over to False. “You remember that dance that TFC taught us?”

False thinks for a second. “Yeah, the Quickstep. You want to—”

“—Let’s show these guys how to dance.”

Her smile is so endearing that False can’t help but nod. “Okay, but I’m leading.”

“Yes!”

False puts her hands on Stress’ waist, and away they go. They cross the dance floor in a sweeping arc; then spin together, nearly hopping with every other step. Stress is laughing enthusiastically, and beyond that False can hear the cheers from other hermits watching. 

Cleo and Joe quickly join them out on the dance floor. Tango, Impulse and Zed jump out of their path. The girls brush past Grian and Scar, dancing tightly together. Xisuma goes at it solo, and Beef shakes it up next to his ruminating llama.

The lights and music, the invigorating movement, even the fading effect of her Cuba Libre adds up to an exuberance False has not felt in a long time. She chuckles along with Stress, mostly at her own incessant worry. This is a magical night; she should be able to enjoy it.

As the song ends, False dips Stress backwards. She rises with a glint in her eyes. “Oh! Now let me spin you.” False nods. 

They had practiced this before. False curls in with Stress holding her hand loosely. The final note from the piano, a deep breath in the beat of silence, and then False spins outward. Once, twice, three times around. Her blue skirt puffs up like a cloud on the edge of a storm.

Finally, her partner pulls her back in. False comes to a stop on unsteady feet, reaching out for a familiar hand and his sky-blue eyes. Instead, she only meets Stress’ warm gaze. Her friend grins unaware. “That was gorgeous, Falsie,” Stress exclaims. “You really do look like a princess.” 

“Thanks, I guess.” Beyond her own heavy breathing, False hears applause from the sidelines, cries of ‘Amazing’ and ‘Good show.” She nods to her audience.

Someone steps up behind False. A hand pats her shoulder, and she turns to see Iskall. “Sorry, Ladies. Can I cut in?” he asks.

“Sure,” she says, stepping aside. “I needed a break anyway.” False escapes the dance floor as the next song starts.

She looks towards the bar, thinking of ordering another cocktail. Instead, she sees Beef has claimed Xisuma’s seat, and he is locked in a heated discussion with Keralis. Beef’s grip is tight on Matilda’s lead, and False notices the glint of diamonds in Keralis’ hand. Whatever they’re negotiating, she doesn’t want to get in the middle of it.

False scans the rest of the ball room. Grian had spread tables and chairs around the periphery of the dance floor. She spies one sofa tucked into an alcove, where a hermit is tapping his solitary foot along to the music. She doesn’t hesitate to cross the room and sit down beside him.

“Hey, TFC.”

“Good evening, False. That’s quite the getup you’ve got on.”

Knowing the American turn of speech, False takes that as a compliment. But she still dismisses it. “It’s nothing,” she says, then adds, “I mean, it’s not my kind of thing, all this dress-up and dancing and decorum.”

Mercifully, TFC nods along with her statement. “I know,” he says, “You prefer building to dancing.” His reassuring hand comes to rest on her knee, and she can feel his heavy Bond ring there, one that TFC has worn since long before he joined the rest of the Hermits. 

She looks down, only for her eyes to be drawn to the trousers folded over his bandaged stump. The missing portion of his leg reminds False of what else TFC has lost recently. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how much you miss dancing right now. And you’re stuck watching someone like me.”

After her expression of sympathy, the last thing False expects is a deep chuckle from TFC. “Now don’t sell yourself short, darling. You’re one of the best I ever taught, and you’ve proven that again tonight. But I can see the mood you’re in.”

False blushes. Despite her earlier reluctance to coming to the party, she had thought she could hide her anxieties rather well, drinking and dancing along with the others. Now, through this insight, she realizes what a show she’s been putting on. For a minute, she struggles for words, but TFC goes on. 

“Don’t apologize. You don’t owe me an explanation. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s valid, even if it doesn’t fit the occasion.”

“Should I just leave?” False asks quietly, hoping for advice that will make this decision easier. “Even if I can’t enjoy myself tonight, I don’t want anyone else feeling bad about it. I don’t want to ruin the mood at Grian’s first party this season.”

“You feel responsible for that?” TFC says, and False nods. “Well, you shouldn’t.” 

She finally looks up, locking eyes with the elderly hermit. “I don’t understand.” 

TFC sighs. “You’re sorry I can’t dance. I’m not too happy about losing my leg either. But I didn’t come tonight looking for the hermits’ pity. I came here to enjoy watching the rest of you.” He raises his hand in emphasis towards the dance floor.

Most of the dancers have sat down again, with only three men currently moving to the music. Tango and Impulse wear matching light green shirts and golden trousers, in complement to the outrageous rumba dress Zedaph has on, complete with a fruit headdress and sparkly yellow earring. They dance in a complex pattern of footwork, with Zed moving effortlessly between his two boyfriends.

The way their eyes focus on each other, it’s like they are the only three people alone in the room.

False watches silently for a few minutes, wondering if she should cry or laugh at the spectacle. Zed looks like a parrot fluttering between jungle trees. But all three of them have huge smiles on their faces, which only grow wider as the song ends and they bow to applause.

She finds herself clapping too. TFC nudges her with his shoulder. “Give that a try, darling.” 

“I think I get it,” she says, smiling. “But the person I’d really like to dance with—”

“—Presenting.” Mumbo’s booming voice cuts off her comment. He is announcing three latecomers to the party. “Sir iJevin, Sir BdoubleO, and His Highness, Pharaoh Cubfan!”

False stiffens at the sight of Cub, remembering their last conversation. There’s still a crafty look in his eye as he scans the ball room, and she knows, instinctively, who he is looking for. Cub confirms it when he stops with his gaze resting directly on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided there are four more chapters in this half of the story. The second half will be a new fic with a different title.
> 
> I love seeing your comments. Let me know if you have any theories for the big twist.


	10. Before Hermitcraft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you want to avoid the non-graphic depiction of injury, stop reading at the paragraph "And then an arrow..." and start reading again at the paragraph "After a couple seconds..."

False ran through the forest without a scrap of armor on, dodging arrows left and right. Her leather tunic had broken during the first volley, and her stone axe was still wedged in a spruce tree far behind her. Even if she could pick out her attacker high in the treetops, she had no bow of her own to answer fire.

Racing down the rudimentary path back to her hideout, False regretted ever joining a PvP world. She lived through every day dreading the ring of a sword pulled from a scabbard, or the dull thunk of arrows into unarmored flesh. Then she’d wake up sore, helpless, and far from her base, knowing that when she found her way back home, her best tools and resources would be gone, forfeit to the killer. Such were the rules of the game.

Now, any step could be her last. False cried out as an arrow grazed her leg, burying itself in the dirt ahead of her feet. She stumbled but caught herself against a tree truck, ducking behind it for an extra second of safety.

She glanced ahead and saw the door to her base swing open, waiting for her. False didn’t stop to consider why it had opened, but she dashed out anyway in the vain hope that she would reach it.

Twenty steps… ten… five… 

And then an arrow hit its target, plunging into the soft flesh of her lower back. The impact knocked False to the floor even as she crossed the threshold. She quickly tried to push herself up, but excruciating pain tore through her at the effort, and she collapsed on her side.

False looked down, trying to see out the door, see how far away her attacker was. Instead, her eyes focused on the red stain of blood already spreading on the front of her shirt, the arrowhead poking through the fabric.

Suddenly, boots came into her view. Two pairs of strong hands pulled her out of the doorway and laid her down on her back. Indistinct faces, growing fuzzier by the second, looked down at her with some measure of concern. 

“Help—” she managed to gasp out.

A glowing bottle appeared at her lips. “Drink this,” one man ordered. False recognized the taste of regeneration potion and gulped it down.

“I’ll pull in three, two, one!” the other one said, his gloved hands wrapped around the protruding arrow. False clenched her jaw, groaning in agony as it slid out, but then the potion went to work, knitting skin, muscle and blood vessels back together. 

After a couple seconds, False could sit up again. The two men backed off, allowing her some room to breath as she finally got a good look at them. As she expected, she didn’t recognize either one, only seeing a generic Steve and a space marine. “Who the hell are you guys?”

They looked at each other sheepishly, apparently less prepared to answer her question than to save her life. False would have laughed, except her attacker chose that moment to run into the room.

“Hey, she’s my kill,” the diamond-covered player shouted, aiming his bow at False once again. 

A stick appeared in the Steve’s hand as he stepped between them. “Not today.”

“Yeah, I doubt it,” the space marine added, looking down at the communicator on his wrist as he typed something out. “Goodbye.” He pressed enter, and the attacker vanished.

False blinked slowly, looking between the empty space and her two rescuers. The Steve offered a hand to help her to her feet, and she took it. “And what the hell just happened?”

“I teleported him into an ocean about ten thousand blocks away,” the space marine said. “He’ll think twice before making his way back here.”

So this man had admin powers, False realized. Then they must be from another server, since any moderator from this PvP world wouldn’t have bothered to save her life. Putting that all together, she had an inkling about why they had come.

“Sorry about swearing,” False said, rubbing the back of her head. “I guess my adrenalin was running high.” Bit of an understatement, she admitted to herself. The two men nodded in understanding, but an uneasy feeling still lingered in the room. “Can I offer you gentlemen anything: bread or apples or some water?”

“We’re actually here to offer—" the admin started to say, but then the other man laid a hand on his shoulder, quieting him.

“Don’t rush it, X,” he said, then turned back to False. “To answer your prior question, I’m Joe Hills and my friend here is Xisuma B. Void. Howdy.”

At the mention of his full name, Xisuma rolled his eyes behind the green visor of his helmet. False noticed that and smiled for the first time. “It’s nice to meet you, Joe, Xisuma. I’m FalseSymmetry. Oh, and thanks for saving my life.”

She chuckled as the words left her mouth. At that, Xisuma broke into a wide grin, and Joe burst out laughing. The tension evaporated.

False led the men over to her small kitchen area and started looking for some food to restore her low health. Joe handed her a block of coal to start the furnace, and soon all three of them had cooked chicken in front of them.

Joe dug into his meal, but Xisuma wouldn’t remove his helmet to eat. Instead he leaned back in his chair, watching False as she took a few bites. She stopped to ask, “So, what’s that offer you were going to make me?”

“Have you ever heard of Hermitcraft?”

False nodded. There was some talk, even on this PvP world, of survival servers where the focus was on building up the world, rather than this fight to come out on top. She hadn’t considered it beforehand, but now…

“—recruit new members for our cooperative world,” Xisuma had been explaining, but Joe noticed how False zoned out during the long answer.

Through a mouthful of food, he added, “We’re inviting you to our artists’ collective, Ms. Symmetry.”

False understood that well enough. Still, she had some qualms. 

“I’m not an artist,” she insisted. “I don’t build, I fight. And I’ve been rather bad at that recently. I’m better off in a minigame arena.”

Xisuma and Joe looked between each other for a minute. Joe opened his mouth to make some rebuttal, but then Xisuma’s communicator beeped. They waited as he checked his new message.

He smiled. “Our other recruit has made up his mind. He’d like some help recording his redstone circuitry before he comes with us. I’ll go there now while you talk this over.” With that, Xisuma typed some coordinates and teleported away.

Gaping in surprise, False looked to Joe. He shrugged. “Sorry about X. He’s a good admin and even better at redstone, but he considers me the word guy. I guess he thinks I’ll figure out a way to convince you.”

“I don’t need convincing, Mr. Hills,” False said. “I want to join your server, but I’m not sure why you’re inviting me. I’d hate to be a disappointment.”

Joe sighed and nodded, turning back to his chicken.

False ate a few more bites of her own supper, but she had no appetite left. Even with the regeneration potion’s quick healing effect, she felt achy and tired. She needed a good night’s sleep before making a major decision.

“I like that potted flower you put by the stove,” Joe suddenly spoke up. “You must have traveled pretty far to a swamp to get the blue orchid.”

“Thanks,” False said, and then added, “Blue is my favorite color.”

“I can see that. Those light blue curtains hanging in the window, the carpet by the door, even that ‘Skull and Roses’ painting. You had a creative vision for this room, and you pulled it together nicely.”

She glared at him.

Joe just chuckled. “Oh, you’ll need to try harder than that,” he said. “That’s how my wife looks when she’s happy with me.”

False sighed, looking down at her hands in her lap. She saw the small tear in the shirt left behind by the arrow and fingered it gently.

“Look,” Joe went on, softly, “I’m not saying you have to be an artist to become a Hermit. I’m just asking if you want to give it a try.”

False took one deep breath and then another, letting it settle in her lungs. She felt her own pulse at her wrist, beating steadily. All thanks to Joe and Xisuma. The attacker would have succeeded, and she would have died, if it wasn’t for these Hermits. And even though she didn’t know why they had saved her, why they wanted her, she knew her answer now. Her life, at least in this world, was at an end.

“I do,” she breathed out, her voice barely a whisper. 

Joe didn’t reply immediately. False looked up to see him grinning. “Okay, then. Well…” he stuck out his hand. “Welcome to Hermitcraft, FalseSymmetry.”

She reached over the table and shook his hand, the very hand that had held the regeneration potion up to her mouth in her dying breath. But this felt more like a beginning.

“You mentioned you’re Bonded?” False asked, leaning back in her chair. “What’s your wife’s name?”

“Cleo. I think she’ll like you.”

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't canon for where FalseSymmetry played before Hermitcraft, but other details are closer to canon.


End file.
